


All the things Crowley does and Aziraphale doesn't notice. Until he notices.

by toxicpoisonedyouth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 4+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I could be wrong, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yikes, if im counting right, micheal sheen please fuck me up, more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicpoisonedyouth/pseuds/toxicpoisonedyouth
Summary: um yes aziraphale is a cutie but oh so obliviouspoints to crowley for trying booi really succ @ summaries tbh





	All the things Crowley does and Aziraphale doesn't notice. Until he notices.

**Author's Note:**

> hi yes i am aware of our resident dad
> 
> if you're reading this, dear micheal, please hmu i need a daddy
> 
> anyways sorry im so thirsty for sheen cock. 'cept charlie. he can keep his cock to himself :)  
> be on the look out for more crack/ SMuT/ angst/ and fluff fics headed ur way

“This is… this is for you.” Crowley says, pushing the potted plant into Aziraphale’s hands. The angel opens his mouth to argue, but closes it due to the lack of reason. He takes the plant from the demon and smiles.

“Thank you, my dear,” he replies. He walks over to the window sill of his flat above the bookshop, and places the plant down in the sunlight. He walks back to his kitchenette only to watch Crowley glide across the floor (because what he does isn’t really walking, it’s definitely a glide) and move the plant, shoving it right back into Aziraphale’s hands.

“’S an indoor plant, angel, it mustn't _drown_ in sunlight,” he hisses. He then plops himself down on the couch, arm cascading over the back and one leg dropped on the ground while the other relaxes on the cushions. Aziraphale slowly nods, too much sunlight does make sense. So he walks over to the space near the tv stand (though he never watches tv, but it’s there to make everything a bit more homely) and sets it on the floor. He turns around to watch Crowley stand right back up and hand the plant back to him. “It mustn’t drown in the darkness, either.”

__

Aziraphale huffs, handing Crowley the plant back in annoyance.

“Well, where do you suggest I put it?”

Crowley takes it and saunters out the door and downstairs to the closed bookshop, the moonlight glowing through the window. Crowley snaps a finger and miracles on the lights as Aziraphale follows. The plant is set on the counter by the register, and with that, Crowley nods in approval.

“That should do.” he says and then leaves the bookshop. Aziraphale stands there, in a bit of a daze. In the plant, he notices the next day, is a little stick with a card stuck to it. Written on it, for all to see, is _“From Crowley"_ and Aziraphale smiles at that, humming as he waters it.

\---

The plant dies a week later, much to Aziraphale’s ever so attentive care.

“Did you yell at it?” Crowley asks. They’re in Aziraphale’s flat and the demon is placed on the couch, flicking through Netflix as Aziraphale pours himself tea and then Crowley a coffee. He’s just told his friend the tragedy of the plant, and is very sorry he didn’t keep it alive.

“Well, no,” Aziraphale replies, handing him his coffee. He eases himself into his armchair, sipping his tea. “I didn’t think to yell. At a plant.”

“It helps. Scares ‘em into living,” Crowley says. He still hasn’t found anything to watch even though he could scroll through the entirety of Netflix twice and still watch _The Office_ for the fifth time. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you another one.”

They do watch _The Office_.

\---

Another plant arrives the week afterwards, this time, it’s a bunch of thriving succulents in a geometric shaped glass terrarium. Another card is taped on the side.

“Sorry I didn’t deliver it personally.” Crowley says later that day. They’re in Aziraphale’s flat, it’s become a routine now, and now, Crowley has started leaving things there. First, it was his windbreaker, then his suit jacket, then sure enough, Aziraphale has enough of Crowley's clothes to put together for a reasonable outfit for the demon. He doesn’t mind.

“It’s alright, dear, no worries.” Aziraphale replies. He’s reading his book (A Wilde, of course) and sipping his cocoa while Crowley is once again strewn over the couch with his coffee and a magazine. Aziraphale looks up when the clock strikes midnight, then looks at Crowley. The demon is wearing his sunglasses, unfazed by the clock. He gulps down the rest of his coffee then sits up. Aziraphale thinks he’s leaving and stands to say goodnight to his friend, but Crowley just goes and refills his cup.

“Mind if I stay here for the night? ’M just so tired and ‘m not up to driving back to my place.” Crowley says. Aziraphale smiles softly.

“Of course, dear,” he says and walks to his bedroom, pausing midway. “Would you care for a blanket or two?”

It’s five blankets later until Crowley is satisfied. His glasses are off and his bright yellow eyes stare at the fire, the flames turning the red of his hair an auburn color. His eyes then shut and he eases into a sleep.

“‘Night, ‘Zira.” Crowley mutters as Aziraphale leaves. The angel pauses at the nickname, his face feeling warm.

“Goodnight, Crowley.” he replies.

—-

Crowley likes to sleep. He always has. Even though demons and angels aren’t made to sleep, Crowley trained his body to do so, to get tired and worn out by the end of the day. Aziraphale asked him about this one day and Crowley replied, “Makes me feel human.” Crowley had once woken up during the 14th century, only to find The Black Death was wiping out most of the population. So he went back to sleep and woke up the next century.

Aziraphale, knows how to raise his friend from sleep. He puts on a pot of coffee and a kettle of hot water for his cocoa (he doesn’t drink coffee, it’s too bitter for his sweet taste buds) and sits in his armchair with a book until the demon’s yellow eyes flick open slowly.

“‘S that coffee?” He asks, his voice groggy with sleep. Aziraphale smiles over his cup.

“Yes, I put it on just for you.” He replies to the demon. Crowley gets up from his place on the couch, he’s dressed in his pants only and Aziraphale blushes lightly, burying his nose in his book.

“Thank you.” Crowley says as he walks back into the room.

He sits in the armchair across from Aziraphale. They sip at their respectful beverages until Crowley speaks up again.

“Your couch is rubbish, by the way,” He says. Aziraphale opens his mouth to protest that he quite liked that couch, thank you very much, but Crowley speaks again. “Don’t worry, mine’s much more comfortable. I’ll bring it over, no need to buy a new one.”

\---

The couch is large. Like a bunch of recliners packed together. It’s black leather, of course, which doesn’t go with Aziraphale’s decor (though there wasn’t much one in the first place) but there’s a blanket thrown over the back. It’s handmade.

The angel rolls it out to see what was embroidered. Crowley wasn’t there, but the couch was delivered that morning.

The image is of a tree. An apple tree. A large black snake with yellow eyes is wrapped around the trunk as it watches _an angel_ fly with its great white wings and _pluck_ an apple from a branch.

Aziraphale giggles as he folds it up and lays it on the back of the couch where it was. It was Eden, the image was, and the angel smiled fondly that the demon would go as far as _embroider_ the beginning of their friendship into a blanket.

Aziraphale looks at the blanket, then picks it up, thinking it might fit better with the decor in his bedroom.

\---

Crowley drives fast. Aziraphale has noticed this and isn’t pleased but he finally learned why. Due to Crowley’s love of sleep, he’s late. Always. He has to drive fast because if he doesn’t, he’ll miss something important.

Today, the important thing was lunch with the angel himself.

“Sorry ‘m late, angel,” Crowley says as he bursts through the doors of the cafe. He sits in a chair across Aziraphale. “Traffic was messy.”

“Why? Oh, dear, who did you hit?” Aziraphale said, he knew of Crowley’s reckless driving.

“What? Oh, no, wasn’t me,” Crowley said. “At least this time.”

Aziraphale went to press further but the waiter came by to take Crowley’s order now that the demon was here and seated. Crowley ordered his usual (devil’s backbone with scotch, not whiskey, straight up) and the waiter scurried away to the bar.

“That could kill any human, you do realize.” Aziraphale noted. He, of course, was absorbing the menu. Tiramisu sounded nice, maybe a nice cocoa with it? Oh, and the gelato! He mustn’t forget the gelato!

“What could kill a human? Wha - a knife? Gun? Big piano falling from the sky and comically smushing them like a bug hitting a windshield?” Crowley spat. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Your drink order, dear,” he spoke calmly, eyes flitting over the menu. Oh, but the five cheese pasta sounded so delightful. “Too much alcohol can put a human in cardiac arrest.”

“Well good thing ‘m not human,” Crowley said. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher. “And since when did you start caring if my heart stopped ticking?”

“Since you began living with me.” Aziraphale glared over his menu.

Crowley choked on his water. He sputtered as he slapped his hand against his chest harshly, face turning red but not just from choking.

The waiter came back with Crowley’s drink. Before the glass hit the table, Crowley was gulping it down like it was oxygen to breath.

The waiter eyed him oddly, is was an unusual mix of alcohol and very dangerous at that. He blinked back over to Aziraphale.

“Is - is he okay?” The waiter asked. Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes, he’s just being dramatic.” Aziraphale sighed.

“ _Dramatic_.” Crowley heaved.

“Ignore him.” Aziraphale waved off his friend. He ordered everything he thought about getting, gelato, tiramisu, the pasta, another glass of cocoa, and four of the strawberry macaroons. The waiter took his menu and left.

“ _Dramatic? I’m_ being _dramatic?!_ ” Crowley hissed.

“Well, you were making quite the scene, What with all the smacking on your chest and whatnot.” Aziraphale gestured at the demon as he sipped at his cup of cocoa.

“I was _choking_.” Crowley insisted, golden eyes boring through his sunglasses.

“Demons don’t choke.” Aziraphale countered.

“Oh, yeah, like I haven’t heard that before.” Crowley sneered, leaning against the back of the chair.

“ _Crowley_.” Aziraphale sighed, he didn’t need the graphic retelling of Crowley’s… _escapades_.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Crowley went on. “How did you not expect me to react like that? Did you even hear what you had said?”

“Yes? Of course I did hear it, why else would I speak if I couldn’t hear what I was saying. It’d be rather useless, I would think?” Aziraphale pauses, thinking how terrible it would be to not hear any words he spoke, because he’s speaks a lot. He’s been told many times, especially by Gabriel, that he speaks _too_ much-

“ _Angel_.” Crowley directed Aziraphale’s attention back to him.

“Oh, yes, my dear?” Aziraphale snapped back to his friend.

“The - the thing. About us living together,” Crowley said. He took a swig of his drink, which had refilled itself twice in the past five minutes. “What did you mean?”

“I meant… well, you are my flatmate now so I supposed I should start looking out for you. I mean, I always have, but now since I know we both feel the same way about each other, I should keep a _closer_ eye on you.”

“Wait wait wait,” Crowley held up his hand. He paused as he dissected Aziraphale’s ramble. “What do you mean by ‘feel the same way about each other?’”

“I mean we both love each other, yes?” Aziraphale asked, confused by Crowley’s sudden, well, confusion. “I may be a bit daft about the world the days but I know what love is and what it feels like.”

“You… you love me?” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale smiled.

“Of course! My dear, I’ve loved you since you saved me during the Blitz!” The angel chuckled. His smile faded as he looked at Crowley, who had a blank face. “Unless… I’m reading this wrong. If I am, I am very sorry.”

“No - no you aren’t reading it wrong,” Crowley sighed, putting his head in his hands. “‘Ssss jussst I’ve loved you sssince The Beginning. I didn’t think you felt the sssame way ssso I ssstayed quiet.”

“Oh, oh, my dear,” Aziraphale positively beamed. He took one of Crowley’s wrists and then held his hand. “Is that why the blanket has our first meeting on it?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale squeezed his hand tightly.

“I love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled at the demon.

Crowley blinked. If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure was now.

“Yeah, I, uh, iloveyoutoo.” He muttered. Aziraphale smiled widely and kissed Crowley’s knuckles.

“I’m so glad I’m living with you now,” the angel said. “May I call you my boyfriend?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s fine, yeah.” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale smiled. The waiter came back with his order and the two enjoyed their meal together. This time, as boyfriends.


End file.
